Names
by LeviosaLove
Summary: Names. They define who we are. They sum up our entire being in a word or two. Spoken or Unspoken, they carry more weight than any other words. For when someone calls you by your name, can you help but listen? One-two-three-shots, drabbles, poetry, etc.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione had always liked names.

Not just love potion; Amortentia.

Not just giant spiders; Acromantulas.

Names gave things meaning. Individuality. Like hers.

Hermione. Not such a common name.

She'd always liked it, though.

It was unique and precise and hard to figure out.

Just like her.

Yes, there could be no confusion when things were properly named.

But _He _couldn't be mistaken for anyone else. Not him.

Everyone

Knew-who.

His was one name she left unspoken.

A/N Okay, has anyone ever noticed the importance of names in society? Everything has one. We feel slighted when someone forgets our name; and wince at the name of a dearly departed ones. We carve them on our tombstones and sign them on our papers. Names.

Mine is Brie, by the way. I know I SHOULD be working on my other stories, What Happened Underwater and Perfection, as well as some PJO and Merlin fics that are like half done.

And yet… Here you have it. Names. It will probably be one-shots and drabbles and two-or three shots centered around names. And no, it's not Voldemort-centric. Please Review!

-Love, Leviosa

(LeviosaLove)


	2. Chapter 2

Here, everyone knew his name.

He heard them whisper as he nervously flattened his hair over the scar that defined who he was in this strange new world. But it was too late; they'd seen. Then came a flurry of whispers and stares

"_Harry- I say, is that- potter-the boy who-James and Lily-Sirius The Potters- Harry- black-raised-who lived- betrayal-by Muggles, Harry Potter, Harry Potter!"_

Later, knowing the full story, he reflected on how he was unrecognizable to them, average in every way. Just another lost-looking muggle-born. Until they saw his scar.

But then again, he wasn't exactly what people were expecting

Here, everyone knew his name.

There, his name was just another reminder that he wasn't like them.

That he never would be.

Which is why they never called him by it.

Not once in eleven years.

He had almost forgotten he had a name.

_"__Harry, such a nasty, common name, don't you think_?"

Here, everyone knew his name

It made him their boy-who lived; their savior, their story-book hero.

_"__Every child in our world will know his name"_

Here, everyone knew his name. But it was up to him to live up to it

Harry took a deep breath and turned to face the magical world.

The stuff of legends was so, so scared.

But he would make his parents proud.

He would make his own legacy for the name.

Because after all, he WAS Harry Potter…

A/N Harry Freaking Potter! Ahem. Excuse me.

Anyhow, just realized my last A/N was longer than my story. Sorry /: Review and receive virtual Cookies! Should the next one be about Gred, Forge, and Fred II? I'm happy to take suggestions or challenges, and feel free to PM me with any questions! Still relatively new, so sorry for any mistakes. This concludes yet another ridiculously long Authors Note. I really should make these shorter.

Love, Leviosa

(LeviosaLove)


	3. Chapter 3

"At least now you'll be able to tell us apart, Mum."

But they didn't want to be told apart. They weren't themselves without each other. Apart was an awful thing.

FredandGeorge

GredandForge

After the first accident, most people could tell them apart when they were close enough to see their ears, and lack thereof.

George was the one with the missing ear. Easy. It was Fred. Or George. Or Gred. Or Forge.

Then, after it happened, it was impossible to get it wrong.

Fred was the dead one.

It was George. George.

But if he tilted his head just so, and looked in the mirror, for a second he'd see his brother. Then he'd see all the little differences that no one bothered to see. The moles in slightly different places. The cheekbones that were a tad more prominent. The nose that was a bit shorter and thicker. You see, when people looked at them, they never looked for differences. They looked for similarities. So that's what they found.

But his family, for all their jokes, always knew whether they were Fred or George.

Though it was tough to decide which one to smack, because they had a habit of finishing each other's sentences.

That's why for so many years after, George would stop short after one or two words.

He was waiting on his twin to finish his sentence.

He liked to think that up in heaven, he did.

**A/N This will be continued in the next update. My first try at writing the twins, or grief at all. Whatcha think? Sorry I've been gone for so long. I'll try to be better about updating.**

**Love, Leviosa**


	4. Chapter 4

So many names… Do they know who they keep in their graveyard?

Generation after generations, long-dead or moved on. They don't live in Godric's Hollow anymore…

Ignotus Peverell… Does he know where his cloak is now? How it didn't save James Potter, but it saved his son? The son that is now looking for an answer, in this, the graveyard of bravery, as to why the world keeps turning when for all intents and purposes, his has stopped?

But all of our worlds are interconnected, and my world is still turning. So is the Wizarding World. Sometimes I feel as if we're the only thing keeping it that way. I can never understand why things are the way they are; can anyone? But while we're still here, awake and fighting, our world will go on. Even if we have to hand-crank it day by day.

But at the house, the sign, not so much the sign itself, but the words on it, show that we are not alone. The Wizarding World is behind us, and they are hoping…

Sometimes it's all we can do to remember to keep breathing, and know that _we are still here. _And we will not give up, even when our world is close to stopping… Take comfort in that. While we and our brothers and sisters are still standing, Voldemort can never truly win.

The world will remember our names.

* * *

Under the kissing-gate

In the snow

With Christmas bells sounding

Young ones go

To the place

That started it all

When something breaks,

Something mends

Something begins,

Something ends

As one is lost,

One is found

And two watch sadly

Without a sound

The mundane world gladly

Slumbers on,

The world unseen tiredly

Marches on,

On their shoulders they carry

All the hopes and dreams

And it's so close and yet so far

"Good luck Harry…

Wherever you are."

A/N Sorry! Life has been nuts. Does the poem fit, or should it be separate? Or for that matter, is it any good? Thanks the my faithful reviewer syd004!

Love, Leviosa


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